


Out of Mind

by TheBrokaryotes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, M/M, also known as i hecked up got sad and wrote this, dont read if u dont want to hear about ghost hinata, everyone is between 18 and 22, ghost au, i think, like hinata's death and stuff??, maybe there will be daisuga, suga is a precious angel boy, um theres a lot of focus on the ghost realm stuff so, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrokaryotes/pseuds/TheBrokaryotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kageyama Tobio is a twenty-year old living on his own for the first time in his life. He's relieved, liberated, and terrified all at once. And he just can't shake the feeling that he's not as alone as he thinks he is.</p><p>Hinata Shouyou died at age nineteen, but due to an error, it is realized that he died prematurely. He must now live out the remainder of his life as a spirit in his last place of residence. But it seems like someone already moved in...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One-Way Ticket

**Author's Note:**

> heyo!!! co-founder of TheBrokaryotes here! my partner thinks i should post this soooooooooo yeah.....  
> if this gets 10 kudos by March 30th, i will finish chapter two and post it too (maybe)!!!
> 
> disclaimer: i dont own haikyuu. and i also get really really ooc sometimes.
> 
> fic title was inspired by the saying "out of sight, out of mind."

Kageyama didn’t really think much of moving in between his second and third year at the university. He wasn’t really thinking of much, to be honest, since college had all but fried, toasted, and drowned every last one of his brain cells. His classes weren’t all that difficult in and of themselves, he was just an idiot. Off the volleyball court, he could really only be described as a shell of an intellectual that someone had forgotten to fill with brains and organs and had instead stuffed with metal gears, Pepsi, and pork curry.

Stepping through the door for the final time and just about collapsing onto the linoleum, Kageyama lets the air that had puffed up his cheeks out in a thin stream, blue eyes fluttering shut as a wash of completion surrounded him. He’d insisted on doing all the packing and moving alone, and even though he didn’t have very many things to begin with, it was taxing all the same.

Setting the box - what was he even holding? Tableware? Trophies? He cranes his neck toward the front of it to get a glimpse at the tag but abandons his efforts as soon as he realizes exactly how little he cares - down onto the washer beside him, Kageyama kicks off his sneakers and pads out into the kitchen, taking in the view of the tiny apartment with all his dumb possessions in it for the first time.

If Kageyama had to sum up the entire place in one word, he’d probably have to go with ‘meager.’ Sure, it was cute and quaint, if you liked that sort of thing, and if he were feeling _really_ generous, he might even describe it as ‘cozy.’ But, candidly, it was nothing more than what he needed. Which, on a college student’s earnings, was really all he _wanted_ at this point. When you’re in college and struggling to hold your head above the tsunami of textbooks and review sheets or tread the waves of coffee you need to pump yourself full of every morning just to function on a barely passable level, ‘needs’ and ‘wants’ kind of start blurring together.

The kitchen wasn’t too big either, maybe ten by ten, with an island attached to the wall (so, like...a peninsula?) jutting out and separating the hall from the foyer entranceway. The bedroom was just across the corridor, no larger than the kitchen, with a window overlooking a view of the college campus, which glittered in the distance as the sun set.

Aside from that, all that remained was the living room. Sure, it was the largest room in the entire place, but so little space in it had been taken up by furniture since Kags wasn’t sure he would even be using it for anything other than watching television or crying in. It too, had windows, but on the northern wall, overlooking the road.

A grey tabby cat turns the corner out of the living room, padding up to Kageyama’s feet and rubbing against his legs. Kneeling down absentmindedly, he scoops it up in his arms and brings it to his chest, pointer and middle finger scritching gently at it’s left ear. The vibrations of the soft animals’ purr’s echo in his heart and make a bit of the exhaustion ebb away.

The ravenette allows his mind to wander as he pads carefully across the hardwood surface, which stuck to his skin in the mid-summer haze. College was gonna _suck_ this year. Kageyama didn’t know why, he could just feel it. Something in his bones kept repeating _failure, failure,_ over and over, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that is was out of his control. He didn’t much appreciate that. He liked feeling as if everything was under his reign, like he was on top of it all. Naturally, this didn’t sit well with him.

The cat worms its way out of his probably-too-tight grip, padding off with a flick of its tail, so Kageyama just sits down in a rolly chair in the middle of the sea of boxes. He had no sheets on his mattress yet, and no headboard or frame to speak of. He didn’t really have very much apart from the bare minimum; in fact, the only real item of luxury he had at this point had to be his toothbrush. And the only reason it got chunked in on that list was because it had a tongue scrape on the back of its head.

Just reason #847 why college sucks when you’re a twenty-year old majoring in literature whose only hobbies include volleyball, volleyball, and volleyball.

Another sigh. It seems to swirl in the air around Kageyama’s face before dissipating. Classes started in late August. It was mid-July now. Perfect weather for volleyball, even if it was humid. Sadly, Kageyama would probably be spending most of his time inside the library, cooped up with all the encyclopedias and biographies, gazing for hours at a time at eager college students so unlike himself gathering in the middle of summer vacation to pick out books for next semesters classes. Twats, the whole lot of them. Save studying for when you actually have to study, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? He honestly couldn’t say anything, however, not with the way he slyly shirked responsibilities and replaced them with volleyball. It was truly an addiction.

The sun is golden and orange, dripping like hot candle wax down below the pink horizon line. That breath Kageyama had released moments ago came swirling back to him, flowing down his neck and crawling underneath his shirt collar. He turns his head.

He’s met with empty space and boxes. Boxes, everywhere.

He sighs again. He truly was stuck here now, wasn’t he? Alone, on his own, for the first time in his entire life. Not even a roommate to call upon. Nothing except a dumb grey tabby, which was only useful like, 12% of the time.

And he couldn’t go back.

_Guess you can’t do much with a one-way ticket,_ Kageyama muses.

 

\--

 

Red and blue lights flashed about like multicolored spiderwebs along the fringe of Hinata’s eyelids. Numbness crept along his toes and up his ankles, devouring his calves as he struggles to part his lashes from one another. They are heavy and wet, sticky with something dark and unknown. 

A breath of air wells up in his lungs, a very strong fear of letting it out enveloping his now nearly completely numb body. Just as he’s conscious of the state of his limbs and the buzzing outside his head, his lungs flare up like a fire had ignited in his chest. If he hadn’t already been in a sitting position, he would have been doubled over crying.  
Split lips, tasting rusty and feeling sticky, part as if to let out a croak or a moan or something other than the breath he clung to.

_Someone please, someone please come. Don’t leave me alone._

Sirens slice the silence, but they sound far away. Red and blue mishmash into purple and stab at his blurry vision, so he shuts his eyes tight, unable to grimace at the pain that brought upon him.

_Someone, please. Please. Don’t leave me alone. Please._

The numbness threatens to recede, pain thrashing about in Hinata’s stomach as a growl low and carnal and scared sounds from somewhere nearby. He thinks that maybe it was his own.

_Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me…_

A roar like crashing waves swells in Hinata’s ears, body falling, falling up as fast as falling down, and slamming into something hard and cold.

The breath he had held onto so desperately burst from his lungs in the form of a surprised cry.

_Everything_ hurt. Absolutely _everything._ It was as if someone had twisted Hinata’s body up like a wet towel and scrubbed him on a washboard. Opening his eyes slowly and unevenly, another noise emits from his throat. It’s more of a groan of displeasure this time around, and it doesn’t hurt his face as much to let it out.

The scene around him was unfamiliar and surreal. A material like marble or some kind of smooth rock sprawled at every angle beneath him, extending into the glowing horizon that sliced off half a midnight sky dotted with tiny lights.

The material was cool against Hinata’s fingertips as he pushed himself up and twisted around onto his hip. A drop of something wet and warm _plipped_ gently on the back of his palm. In glancing down, a single drop of crimson spread across it, weaving through the valleys of his knuckles. Hinata blinks. _Is that me? Am I bleeding?_

The pain that had plagued him when he’d landed was starting to ebb away, so he hadn’t even realized he’d had a cut to begin with. Now, however, he could see the patches of exposed skin on his body were dotted and streaked with cuts and scrapes of all kinds. _Where in the world…?_

“Hello.” A voice cuts into the silence, which before had only been broken by Hinata’s breathing. Hinata’s head flicks up toward the sound, and before so much more than a squeak exits his lips, he feels the back of his head hit the ground again, world spinning.

“Oh my. Are you okay?”

A strained growl tapers off into a whimper before it can even escape Hinata’s throat. Words bubble along the saliva in his mouth but his tongue struggles to put them into sentences.

“I…” Just that single syllable alone made Hinata’s throat feel like it had been scraped with a cheese grater.

“Oh, you poor thing. Here.”

Two hands, not overly large or small in feel, but strong and featherlight, cup underneath Hinata’s relatively small torso and pull up. He’s expecting some kind of headrush again, maybe even for a stab of pain, but nothing hits him except for a calming wave of serenity. It was as if an angel had laughed and the sound had travelled all the way through his chest like an X-ray.

“There. Any better?”

Male. Not distinctly, but nearly definitely a male voice.

Hinata opens his eyes again, and this time, he’s actually greeted with something other than blurry horizon lines.

The face before him was certainly male in appearance, rounded jawbone pointed only slightly where the tip of his ear grafts into the hinge of his jaw. Silvery-grey hair to the nape of his neck parts neatly down the middle of his face, a cowlick sticking up between his bangs. Eyes like lemon iced tea glow with an ethereal aura, and its all Hinata can do not to literally get lost in their concerned depths.

The guy crouching in front of him was _seriously_ adorable.

Eyebrows crinkled together in consternation relax and rise as the corner of his lips begin to curl upward into a simultaneously relieved and expectant smile. “Hello. How do you feel?”

Hinata blinks, head shaking unconsciously as he attempts to string words back together again. Frick, he used to be really good at that.

“I...I’m okay.” An understatement. Probably, like, the literal understatement of the year.

A visible breath deflates in his new companion’s lungs. “Excellent. You didn’t look so great coming in. I wanted to make sure the aftershock had passed before I touched you. Sometimes souls get very traumatized when crossing, since the body can-”

“Aftershock? Aftershock of what?” Hinata queries, too out of it to care that he had just interrupted this man.

He doesn’t seem too fazed, as he closes his mouth and smiles again. A small mole to the left of his left eye moves up when the apples of his cheeks rise. “Sorry. I forget sometimes, new souls don’t always remember how they got separated.”

He sits back, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck. Hinata notices that he’s dressed rather simply, in a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. A whitish-beige hoodie that looks like it was woven from feathers hangs on his narrow but strong-looking shoulders. In fact, the closer Hinata looks, he realizes it is not, in fact, the hoodie, but actual _literal_ feathers. Like dove wings, they are smooth and seamless, curling up from his back and draping over his arms.

“Aftershock of your...your accident. Your Severance. I think, if I’m not mistaken… that yours was in a car?” His focus darts to each one of Hinata’s eyes as he speaks, searching to see if anything he says are perhaps buzzwords.

The only thing buzzing in Hinata’s head at this point, however, is perplextion. What the hell was this silvery angel saying? He had no recollection of any accident, only falling, landing, and getting woken up by some guy who couldn’t have been much older than him and was making him question his choice in heteroromantic attraction.

“I don’t...I don’t understand, what are you talking about?” Cuteness aside, all this mysterious visitor had succeeded in doing was making Hinata doubt his own memory.

The man’s expression doesn’t change, but a flash of weariness flicks across his honey-brown irises the same way a pencil mark pushes the wrong way along paper, in an out of place and disheartening manner to all who bear witness. 

“I don’t suppose you’d understand, would you? No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He drops his hand into his lap before rethinking and holding it out to Hinata. “I’m Sugawara Koshi. Call me Suga, please.” The final command comes off as more of a suggestion than a direction. 

Swallowing intimidation inspired by Suga’s whimsical appearance, Hinata clasps their hands together. Either both of them are very cold, or Hinata just couldn’t grasp temperature at the moment, because the disparity between their body heat wasn’t huge, but it was like touching air.

“Hi. I’m Hinata Shoyo.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Hinata blinks.

“Here, come on, let’s get you up.” Suga gathers his legs beneath him and pushes up on one knee, pulling up on Hinata’s hand to draw him into a standing position. “We have a lot for you to catch up on.”

“How much?” Hinata asks, worry likely etching itself onto his facial features.

Suga’s eyebrow crease crinkles again, and Hinata’s stomach flips over. 

“A lot.”


	2. Dead on Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama is finally starting to adjust to life alone. His friends are more supportive than he thought they would be, and even though summer life isn't treating him the best, he doesn't feel like absolute crap. So why, then, does he still feel like he's being stalked?
> 
> Hinata learns tips on what it means to be dead (and how he cheated the system) from Suga, who seems a bit distraught at his state of affairs. He can only imagine why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back back again  
> cori's back  
> tell a friend
> 
> heyo!! im meeting my march 31st deadline (i think??) and wowowowwow i wasn't really expecting that much love right away? gonna have to make my standards higher just to give myself time to write, haha
> 
> thanks for reading this one too!! basically thank you for reading anything we here at TheBrokaryotes produce wow. deadline for next one is gonna be May 31st because exams are coming up and the semester is ending and i want to focus on studies. the bar is set at 50 kudos to finish by then (sorry, but notes/hits/likes are motivators for me, and the more there are, the more motivated i am to actually do things)
> 
> love you all!! <3

Kageyama’s eyes open to light peeking between a crack in his drapes, the sun’s brilliant fingertips brushing at his eyelashes and coaxing them apart. A sigh and a groan emanate from his lips as he pushes himself up onto his elbow. A few cracks and pops are heard from down by his hips as he twists onto his back, presumably his vertebrae complaining, since he hadn’t stretched much last night after volleyball.

The mattress creaks as his weight is lifted off of it, joints creaking more as Kageyama arches his back and pulls his right arm up with his left, then vice versa. His maroon T-shirt pulls up above his hips, exposing a slice of skin to the not-so-nip air.

The cat emerges from the shadows of bathroom and winds its way around Kageyama’s ankles, purring and mewling. He nudges it softly with his feet as he starts moving, padding out into the kitchen and grabbing the teapot on the stovetop with one hand, holding it under the faucet and watching it fill slowly.

He’d been there for a week now, and he was still waiting for it to feel like home, or something that he could even remotely begin to grow attached to. So far the only redeemable quality was that the neighbors were quiet and the water pressure was just stronger than a trickle whenever he tried showering. Aside from that...it was just empty. Even with furniture and him inside, it felt lacking. He wasn’t going to get up in arms about that, though. He was alone, finally, able to at least sort-of resist the temptation of skimping out on homework in exchange for forced interaction. He was by himself completely, now, and he couldn’t afford to act childish anymore. He was nearly twenty-one, and (most) twenty-one year olds wouldn’t sacrifice the money to keep a roof over their head for a sport.

The pot hisses as the heat from the stove hits its flat steel bottom and flicks about along its rim. Kageyama pulls a mug down from the cabinet, inspecting it briefly for no discernable reason before setting it down by the sink. He had work this morning, had to be in the library by 9 AM, and though his shift ended at 12, he likely wasn’t going to be back home until 10 that evening. It was Friday (he thought), so he had the evening shift at the local grocer with Noya and Asahi.

Noya and Asahi. Kageyama couldn’t admit to knowing them very well, or at all, really. He’d met them his freshman year of college, but didn’t get a chance to bond with them too much, given that Noya was his senior by a year, Asahi by two, and they were both way beyond his level of comprehension. Noya was as charismatic and hyper as the day was long, and he was perhaps the shortest twenty-one-year-old Kageyama had ever met. Asahi, on the other hand, was a giant, dwarfing Noya whenever the two stood beside each other. He was a total and complete pansy, though, with long brown hair tied back in a bun all the time and a soft baritone voice that would put babies to sleep. The two made an odd pair, but they seemed to get along well, which was more than could be said about Kageyama and...anyone, really.

The sides of the pot scald Kageyama’s finger-pads as he presses them accidentally to the smooth metal surface, but he doesn’t flinch. The boiling water drips down into the mug, steam twirling like a vine around an invisible pole and disappearing into the air. A tea bag joins it soon, the aroma filling the room and smoothing Kageyama’s ruffled morning feathers. Maybe today wasn’t gonna be absolute hell. No way to know until it’s over, right?

\--

“Thank you, Ukai-kun, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Take care.”

The bell at the top of the door jingles as one of the regulars leaves. It was one of many that had sounded that day in the tiny general store, but even so, it resonated in Kageyama’s ears the same as the rest of them had. Every person that walked through the door needed something, and it was their job to provide it. At least, that’s what Ukai says.

Noya turns the corner of the aisle Kageyama’s working in, two boxes that just about cover his face balanced atop one another cradled gingerly in his arms.

“Hey there...Kags...little help!” the shorter boy manages. Kageyama doesn’t move as quickly as Noya’s voice implies he would have like him to, but he still manages to relieve him of half his burden. By the feel of it, it was canned goods, one box of which was enough to put strain on Kageyama’s forearms. He couldn’t imagine what two felt like under Noya’s weaker grip.

His brow furrows. “I told you I would get the canned stuff out of storage earlier. You shouldn’t handle them.”

He and his senior both had been working together for a year and a half now. Noya had since grown immune to Kageyama’s chastising tone. He squats down to set the box on the floor carefully before straightening up, knee joints popping. A permanent smile is still etched across his features, and all it does is extend a bit to show exactly how little he cared about what Kageyama thought of him lifting things a quarter of his own weight.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were taking too long, so I just got them myself.” He waves his hand a bit dismissively. “Besides, it’s not too much. I’m strong, I got it.”

Kageyama’s frown deepens. It wasn’t that he minded what Noya did, whether he strained himself or not, but he also didn’t want to reap the consequence of him overtaxing himself because Kageyama hadn’t done what he should have. Shaking it off, he rolls one shoulder in a half shrug and returns to sorting the items on the shelves.

Sensing Kageyama’s unfounded displeasure, Noya attempts to lighten the mood by cuffing his shoulder, a little too hard. “What’s got your panties in a bunch, Kags? Did you forget to go to sleep again last night?” he asks bluntly as he kneels down again to unpack one the boxes he’d carried out.

Kageyama sighs through his nose. He hadn’t yet informed his coworkers of his change of address – he hadn’t deemed it necessary until right exactly now. “I moved last week, and I’ve still yet to get all of my things in order,” he responds simply.

Noya’s bleached lock of hair dances as he raises his head, slanted eyes widening. “Hey, that’s great, man! Where’d you move to? Off-campus?”

Kageyama grunts in affirmation, kneeling himself to repeat Noya’s action on the box he’d taken. “Closer to Karasuno. I… needed a change of setting.”

That had been a lie, and Kageyama can only hope Noya’s lack of insight on his rather poor lying habits saved him from getting called out. He hadn’t exactly moved of his own free will, rather, was forced to take his leave after his roommates had accused him of acting too much like the king of the hill, like he was the only one living there. Kageyama wasn’t quite sure what the final straw had been, but it had to have occurred somewhere between him breaking a mirror trying to set a volleyball inside and walking in on Kindaichi and, who Kageyama at the time referred to as, “some unlucky broad.”

Noya nods again, compulsive smile twitching slightly as he turns back to the shelf and starts sliding cans of food into their dusty places. “So I take it you’re having some trouble adjusting to living alone, then?”

 _Dammit_ , Kageyama hisses to himself, chewing on his lip. Noya was only thick concerning himself, it seemed, not so much the people around him.

“I don’t sleep that often anymore,” is all the ravenette is willing to offer on the subject of assimilation to single living. Noya peers at him from the corners of his eyes.

“Do you miss having other people around?”

“No. God, no. People are annoying.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Kageyama blusters. Noya just grins deviously again, clucking his tongue.

“It’s cool, Kags, I get it. It took me some time to get used to being on my own at first. It didn’t take me as long as a week to start sleeping again, but I assume it’s different for everyone. You’ll get used to it. No sweat.”

A heavy sigh sounds from within Kageyama’s heart. He thought he would get used to it at this point. The random creaks of the walls, the sound of bumping on the floor above him, knocking below him, and sometimes, footsteps he swears are in his own flat but turn out just to be the neighbor leaving for the day. He thought he might get used to the emptiness that swells up each morning and leaves him breathless as he wakes, the fear that claws its way into his chest and nestles in his ribcage like a barb, reminding him of all the times he’s been alone, and the crippling anxiety that washed over him on just his second day there. He wasn’t one for weak moments, whether alone or in public, but God forbid someone had seen him pressed up against his bedroom wall, back rigid, nostrils flared, trying to keep the involuntary sniveling to a minimum as he kept his eyes trained on the empty space all around him.

All this, and then...

“Yeah, I suppose I will. I just...and I know this sounds weird, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.” Kageyama glances in Noya’s direction to see if that had elicited a verbal response, but all he got in return was the shorter man compulsively beginning to hum the chorus of Rockwell’s _Somebody’s Watching Me_ , and a twinge of annoyance runs down his spine.

“That’s pretty normal,” he responds simply after a moment lost in thought and song, “and I wouldn’t think about it too much. You’re the only one there now, right?”

“Only one that’s ever been, as far as I know.”

“Then you’re good.” Noya flashes a grin, which should’ve come with a warning sign telling people to wear sunglasses, before glancing down to his hip as a vibration cuts along the airwaves between them.

With a slight mutter, he pulls his phone from his pocket and check it, blanching when he sees the caller ID. He slides his thumb along the bottom to answer it, a half-butchered “Ho-llo?” sounding from his lips. It surprises Kageyama at how badly the spritely man could possibly screw up a simple “hello,” but then he remembers Noya grew up in Spain, and had only transferred to Japan in elementary school.

Noya winces as a loud string of angry-sounding Spanish emits from the phone, and he pulls it away from his ear with a slow, annoyed half-blink, his right eyelid dipping down before his left. He breathes in shakily, vehement irritation obviously being withheld.

 _Must be his mother_ , Kageyama muses, drowning a chuckle that threatens to bubble up in his throat.

Exhaling and opening his eyes, Noya mouths _I have to go_ , standing up and attempting to get a word in edgewise around his mother’s obviously-angry chatter.

“Mamá. Mamá, de acuerdo, yo ... Mamá, lo aprendé. Vale, sí, sí, lo siento, yo no hablé por teléfono contigo, Mama.” Noya half-turns and runs his index finger in a circle along his head at Kageyama, who can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

“Mamá, yo…” Noya’s voice drops low, and he presses a hand to his head. “No, Mamá, no tengo una novia todavía.” A cherry red blush slashes across his olive cheeks a moment later. Kageyama didn’t think it was possible for a twenty-two year old’s voice to crack as bad as Noya’s did next. “No, no me gustan los niños!”

Noya turns the corner of the aisle, continuing to talked in hurried bits of Spanish, of which Kageyama could only pick up “mom” and “no” from, and even that was only because they sounded like English. Turning back to the shelves, he continues about his work as if Noya had never been there, again getting lost in his thoughts.

Noya’s words echo once more in the back of Kageyama’s mind, after he’d told him about his paranoid feeling. _It didn’t take me as long as a week to start sleeping again, but I assume it’s different for everyone. You’ll get used to it._

_No sweat._

Kageyama sighs. He had wanted to let Noya know, tell him that he wasn’t so much paranoid over not sleeping as he was about being by himself. Something told him that the reason he felt like he was being watched…

Was because he _was_.

\--

Suga’s eyes dart to the side, catching Hinata’s stare. He takes a shaky breath in, the ginger’s eyes much too penetrating and inquiring for his taste.

The pair had been walking for a bit, conversing, although it seemed that Suga was doing the talking for both of them. He’d been trying to tiptoe around the naked truth for a while, but Hinata’s most recent query of “does that mean I’m dead?” forced Suga to answer bluntly.

“Yes. You’re dead. I’m sorry.”

He braces himself for an onslaught of questions, accusations, and tears, the ilk of which normally bred from hearing the news of one’s own death. But Hinata doesn’t respond right away. He glances down, hands twitching in his jacket pockets. His feet must have suddenly grown interesting, because his eyes follow them as they rise and fall on the floor.

“Huh,” he breathes, and Suga isn’t quite sure what that could mean. He tries to backpedal.

“Well, I mean, technically, you’re dead. But you’re here, in the Halfway. So, that means you’re not quite dead. You’re more...half-dead, I’d say.”

He smiles, but Hinata keeps his head down. He doesn’t appear upset, persay, but rather introspective.

“How can I be half-dead?” he finally asks, to the air, it seems. “I didn’t think there’d be an in-between for death. You either are or you aren’t, right?”

Suga breathes out, rolling his shoulders. “Not exactly. I mean, of course, there’s a sturdy difference between dead and alive. Live people live on Earth. Dead people...well, dead people are different. Given that they can’t _live_ anywhere, they have to go somewhere after their bodies give out.

“You see, your body is like a container. A vessel, if you will. They’re just called Bodies since that’s the word they were given. It has a predetermined lifespan given to it prior to creation. During term, it’s given a Soul. Souls are like the inner-workings of people, they make us who we are and determine our likes, our dislikes, our personalities, and so on. The Soul and Body work in tandem throughout the course of a person’s life, normally. But unlike the Soul, the Body can’t stay alive forever. It’s conditional. It will either decay or be destroyed. When that happens, it’s called a Severance.”

“You mentioned my Severance,” Hinata interjects. “Is that what you meant? You meant that my Body and Soul were separated?”

Suga smiles weakly. “Yes, that’s a Severance. Every Severance is preset and predetermined to happen. It’s all organized by fate. There’s a set time of birth, and a set time of death. Circumstances throughout life are rarely happenstance. The Universe could never be as lazy as to leave anything to chance.”

Even though Suga has stopped talking, an unspoken _but_ hangs in the air between them, growing uncomfortably obvious; Hinata wasn’t an idiot. Sure, he was new to this, but he could probably already tell that his situation was different than others.

Hinata takes the liberty of vocalizing their contradiction. “But…?” he starts.

Suga sighs. “But… just because something is rare doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Sometimes circumstances are left up to chance, and sometimes births don’t go exactly as planned, and Souls aren’t tied to the right Bodies, or there is an issue with the bond between them and a person grows up in dysphoria because their mind doesn’t align with who their self. And sometimes–”

“It happens in death too,” Hinata finishes. Suga swallows dryly and nods.

Shoulders sagging, Hinata obtains the look of someone who just received news they knew about in advance, but hadn’t prepared for. “And you’re saying that that’s what happening to me?”

A nod from Suga once more. “The two biggest overlying forces that control our lives are fate and chance. The two are not one in the same. Fate is the predetermined, orderly sort of force, while chance is witty and throws organization in for discord. Fate is more prominent, but chance is still there, like a pestilence.”

“Like God and the Devil.”

“Yeah. If only.”

Despite himself, Hinata smiles. “So you’re saying there’s no God? Or Devil? Or anything like that?”

Suga reaches around to rub the back of his neck. “Not in the sense people generally like to think. I guess, if you’re looking at it objectively, God is fate, and the Devil is chance. Two forces fighting for control. One peace, one chaos.”

Hinata looks confused now, so Suga dulls it down. “Basically, no, there’s no-one in a toga sitting on a cloud judging you. And there’s no goat-man with red horns and a pitchfork waiting to tear you a new one if you lie once.

“But, back to what we were discussing, yes, that’s what happened to you. Chance overtook the circumstances of your death rather than fate. It caused your Severance to occur sooner than fate had foretold, killed your Body. And since your Soul didn’t have time to prepare for the lack of another part of itself, it came here in shock. That’s why you were in such disarray when you landed.” Suga grows a bit uneasy, remembering the shambled state Hinata’s Soul had been in when it landed.

“Also part of the reason why I was so worried.”

Hinata feels a bit of regret for having upset the cute angel guide, casting him a remorseful sideways glance. “Do you know how I died?” he asks. Suga shakes his head.

“No, that information is usually left only to the Soul and people still on Earth that witnessed it. I won’t know how you died unless you yourself tell me.” He chuckles a little bit, drawing his shoulders in. “That’s the only thing Gatekeepers don’t get to learn about the Souls they tend. It’s like…” Suga pauses, grasping for the phrase on his tongue. “… a granted confidentiality.”

“But _I_ don’t even remember how I died. How am I supposed to know why I’m here if I don’t know how I died?” Hinata asks, mind overloading with information at this point.

“Well, you don’t really need to know _how_ you died to know where to go. Your resting place is determined by the number of times and the severity in which chance interfered with your life. Chance is rarely ever a good thing, and it can corrupt a Soul pretty easily. Sure, there are plenty of people that had chance interfere every day and still went to the Other Side, and there are those that didn’t have influence until the end that are in the Nightmare Valley, but there’s a median.”

“Are those, like...Heaven and Hell or something?” Hinata asks, raising an eyebrow. Good. More terms to remember.

Suga shrugs. “More or less. The Other Side is for the generally pure Souls, whereas the Nightmare Valley is for tarnished Souls.”

“How do you tell which Souls are pure enough to get into He– the Other Side, and which Souls have to go to the Nightmare Valley?”

“Well, tarnishing doesn’t work on a severity scale like chance. It’s based off of how a person handles a situation with chance, and how a person chooses to use their Body and Soul in spite of or in accordance with chance. Even though a Body and Soul are connected, they’re not the same, and the Body can still make decisions and do things without the Soul’s commitment. It’s how well a person controls the two that determines if their Soul becomes tarnished or not.” Suga chews his lip. “Does that make sense?”

It did, in an odd way. “But that doesn’t explain me. You said this was Halfway, right? If Heaven and Hell are these “Other Side” and “Nightmare Valley” places, then why am I here and not in one of them?” Hinata asks, fearing he may already know the answer.

Suga takes a breath, averting his gaze. “Well… you died too early, remember?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, I guess… it means you can’t go to either.”

Hinata’s still heart sinks down, and his abdomen goes hot in fear. If he couldn’t go to either, then was he gonna be stuck in limbo forever? With nothing to do and nowhere to go? He couldn’t handle that. He just couldn’t. He’d rather be in hell (or the Nightmare Valley, whatever) than alone and meaningless.

“S-so what does that mean? Does that mean I’m just gonna float around useless until… until forever? Would it be forever? Would I get another chance?” Panic rises in Hinata’s throat, and he hopes to God or fate or whatever that he might get a second shot.

Suga blinks, eyes looking past Hinata before drifting upward in thought, giving Hinata the answer he wanted, but never expected.

“Well… you died early, yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re _dead_. It just means your Body is dead. But your Soul still has a place to fill on Earth until it’s replaced with another. So, technically speaking? You can’t stay here. You _need_ to go back.”

Hinata can’t decide whether or not he should be happy over the prospect of returning back to Earth, or concerned that his body wouldn’t be joining him. “But if my Body is dead, then how can I come back to life?”

Suga takes a breath in through his teeth, looking pained, but trying to mask it with an encouraging smile. “You… you won’t. You’ll still be dead. Er, half-dead. It’s just your Soul going back.”

It’s Hinata’s turn to blink, and he glances down from Suga’s gaze, realization hitting him in the gut uncomfortably.

“Like a ghost.”

Suga’s affirming _yes_ doesn’t make Hinata feel much better.


End file.
